


Oil Spill [Soul x Reader]

by The_Rabbit_re



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25213687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Rabbit_re/pseuds/The_Rabbit_re
Summary: You've been friends with Soul Eater for longer than you can remember; but how long have you been in love with him? Only time will tell. Death the Kid sends you, the infamous demon weapon who never had a partner, on a mission with Soul and Maka to stop a kishin wrecking havoc on small towns. When you sink into the madness, will the truth of your feelings come out?
Relationships: Soul Eater Evans & Original Female Character(s), Soul Eater Evans/Reader
Kudos: 67





	Oil Spill [Soul x Reader]

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I wrote this piece as a request received on my tumblr account and figured I would post it here as well because why not. Who doesn't like a little Soul x reader?

You’d never had a meister, had never wanted one. You’d always rebelled against the idea that a weapon should be prepared to die for their meister, didn’t appreciate the power dynamic that implied. Why should your life be any less important than someone else’s? Similar to Soul Eater Evans, your longtime friend, you hadn’t attended the student meetup Lord Death held every year for students to pair up into weapon and meister. But unlike Soul your very own Maka Albarn had not happened upon you either. From the very day you’d found out your weapon form was a bow, all you’d done was try and find a way to work alone; and to everyone in your family’s dismay and surprise—you’d found a way. 

No one had seen you in full weapon form since the day you first shifted into it by accident—shinning blue silver metal curving into talons at the tips where bowstring attached like spider webbing, only showing in the right light. 

It had taken a year, but you found a way to wield yourself, a partial transformation that practically screamed for you to work alone. Just the bowstring, that was all you needed. Your extremities had become your best friend; the tips of your fingers on either hand turning to the familiar talons of your bow form, strands of spider silk connecting each of the fingers on either hand together like a guitar neck. 

After you became a death weapon a sleuth of new opportunities for partial transformations fell at your feet, toes and fingers turning to claws in their own right, making you deadly at close range as well. 

From there you didn’t need a meister; you could shoot your own soul wavelength from the strings. After Soul became a death scythe it was you who he came to for advice on how to fight on his own—but all weapons are different, not everyone is meant to wield their own weapon form. That was one reason you had always looked up to Justin Law, only making it that much more of a slap in the face when he lost to the madness created by the Kishin when you were a senior at the academy. 

Being without a meister didn’t mean you were always alone though; for whatever reason group resonance came easily to you—leaving you to become a fan favorite of Lord Deaths to send on missions he deemed needed more than just one meister/weapon pair to complete. When Kid took over, he kept the tradition going, leading you to where you were now: on a mission with Soul and Maka. As far as meisters go, Maka wasn’t on your shit list. She never behaved like her life was worth more than Soul’s, never treated him as replaceable. Really, she was your friend as well—just not for as long as Soul had been. 

Regardless of the mission, two death weapons couldn’t have felt more like overkill. 

“What’re the chances this wannabe “kishin” actually requires two death weapons to take down.” You remarked callously from the hotel couch, speaking heavily with your hands as you sarcastically held up air quotes around the word kishin. 

Soul chuckled under his breath, red eyes rolling from your face to Maka’s, as you both knew she’d refute your disbelief.

“An entire orphanage disappeared (Y/N). Not to mention the current students who were sent to collect the kishin’s soul that didn’t return.” Maka didn’t look your way, standing in front of the mirror to pull her ash blond hair up into ponytails. 

You all were getting ready to leave, to head to the orphanage. 

“Okay, but the current students at the academy are no BlackStar’s and Maka’s; they’re all extras.” You said standing from the suspiciously tan couch, walking over to the window on the far side of the room—ignoring the poor design choices of the hotel living room on your way there.

The city was quiet, people walking alone on the brick sidewalks like there was absolutely no chance of anything bad happening to them. You didn’t understand people like that; you were always on edge.

“The current students aren’t in the middle of a war with the witches.” Soul’s voice rose from the couch. “And you really have to stop calling people extras.”

“Exactly.” You replied looking back at him, his startlingly white hair longer than usual, falling forward into his face. “When was the last time you got a haircut.” You added, ignoring his second comment. 

“Now you sound like Maka.” Soul rolled his eyes. 

Maka finished with her hair, walking over to Soul without a second thought to slide a black hairband into his hair. There was no hesitation in the movement. Something like jealously rolled deep down in your gut at that fact, how she touched him so easily. 

They were partners, it was normal. You just wished you didn’t care so much—wished it was you sliding your fingers into his hair. 

You caught Maka’s eyes fall to you, something like a knowing glint flashing across them for only a moment before she looked back to Soul. Maybe she knew, she had soul perception after all, even if you didn’t know what that entailed exactly. 

You’d been friends with Soul since you were little; like him your family was well known, just not for being musicians. Your family was well known for being strong weapons, not that it seemed to keep any of them alive. You could feel your forehead crinkle in annoyance at the thought—something Soul didn’t miss.

“What’re you worrying about over there?” Soul’s eyebrow raised with the inflection of his voice. 

“Same old, same old. Let’s head out; it’s getting dark.” You brushed him off, heading toward the door. 

Even graduated Maka didn’t let go of her skirt and overcoat combo; even as she changed styles and colors—the combat boots always stayed the same. Now her skirt was red, coat a leathery tan. Soul walking beside her in black jeans and a white t-shirt. 

You had to admit they looked good together, even if Soul had never expressed any interest in dating her—or anyone for that matter. He spent all his free time with you, not that you ever complained. 

You didn’t have any room to talk on either ground, you’d been wearing the same gray leather jacket for years—skinny jeans being a personal favorite of yours. Nor had you ever dated anyone; however, your case was different. You didn’t date anyone because you were in love with your best friend, how cliché. 

Now you were all three on the brick sidewalk you’d been staring at from the window before, halfway to the orphanage. Nothing about the city was eerie, no spray paint decorated the alleyways, no trash on the side of the roads, no boarded windows. Everything was well kept, flower boxes and all. 

You were walking behind but between them, frequently leaning on their shoulders to look at their faces as you all spoke about nothing in particular.

“What do you think the kishin in training looks like? I find it weird that it seems to just eat children’s souls. Why so specific? That’s so much more effort to actually become a kishin, just eat everyone.” You said casually. 

“Just eat everyone.” Soul reiterated from beside you. “Is that how you became a death weapon so fast.”

“While you two were out doing all the hard missions, I was snagging the easy gigs.” You nudged Maka’s side with your elbow. “I don’t have a masochist for a meister.”

“I wanted to live up to my mom’s legacy.”

“I’d say you more than accomplished that Maka.” You laughed lightly, refusing to let your mind travel down the path it wanted to head down: that if you followed your mom’s legacy you’d be in a grave. 

She turned to smile at you, the gesture crinkling the skin beside her eyes. She’d always had the prettiest green eyes, though your own (your eye color) eyes were right there with hers. 

“You know, the kishin may not just be eating children’s souls; maybe it’s like you, going the quickest route, going to the highest density places.” Maka said, distracting you from your previous train of thought. 

“There haven’t been any other large group disappearances in this town though.” Soul replied. 

“There was not too far from here though. I was just a couple hours from here on one of my last missions. I never saw any wannabe kishins, but there was an entire hospital wiped out.” You added wondering why you hadn’t thought about that till just now. 

“Your ability to forget to add important information never ceases to amaze me.” A smirk fell across Soul’s face as he leaned into you; his shoulder bumping into you as he continued. “Maybe that’s the real reason you didn’t take any harder missions, they usually require piecing information together.” 

His smirk only grew as you forced your shoulder into his roughly, acting like you were going to smack him. He grabbed your wrist before you even had the chance, pulling it back down between you two—holding it there a bit longer than what seemed necessary. You figured you were just overthinking it, too busy hyper focusing on every time he touched you to really grasp time. 

When was it that you had finally fallen in love with Soul? Or at least finally admitted it to yourself; maybe you’d always been in love with him—from the day he’d handed you a towel after his grandmother had yanked you from her fountain like a fish. 

The orphanage didn’t look any different than the other buildings in the city, the only thing setting it apart from the rest was the caution tape blocking off the missing front door. 

“Blowing the front door off feels dramatic.” You commented as you slid under the obnoxious yellow caution tape, Soul holding the plastic out of your way. 

“Maybe the kishin wanted to make an entrance.” Soul replied sarcastically. 

“An entrance that would unnecessarily alert everyone in the building.” You added ignoring his sarcasm with your own. “What’re we looking for anyway, it’s not like the kishin will just be sitting here.” 

You kicked a spare shoe out of your way, refusing to take in its small size, the indication that the kid who wore that shoe wasn’t alive anymore. It thudded against the dark green carpet softly before knocking against the stained wood of the wall. Beyond a few stray couches there was a narrow hallway, to your immediate right a staircase also leading to a narrow hallway. Well this is claustrophobic, you thought. 

“A lead, we’re looking for a lead.” Maka muttered to herself as she walked past you and down the hall behind the couches. 

“Maka don’t run off on your own.” Soul gripped, also moving past you to catch up with her. He was such a worry wart. 

He turned back for just a moment. “You’re good on your own right?”

“I was a death weapon before you were.” You replied callously.

Soul just smirked, disappearing down the hall. 

“If this is the same kishin as the one from the town over, there won’t be a lead.” You said to yourself sullenly, deciding to take the upstairs and cut the time here in half. 

Of course, the stairs creaked eerily as you tried to walk up them quietly, just in case someone was lurking. As soon as you reached the top of the staircase you had to mentally distance yourself from the reality of what you were looking at. A dark hallway lined with doors with children’s poorly written name tags—crayon flowers and rainbows arching over Sams and Tylers. 

This was the real reason you’d always chosen the easy missions—they never involved as much death. They never required you to search children’s bedrooms. 

You didn’t want to open the doors. You did anyway. There was nothing, beds made like they had never been slept in, stuffed animals ready for tea parties, opened books and sets of paint left out to dry. It was like the kids had just up and teleported away. The last door you opened held a pink construction paper name tag, with a black “Maddie” written next to a kitten’s face. 

You felt the room temperature metal of the doorknob as your fingers latched around it, letting the door fall open before you—a twin bed in the corner with purple sheets, a desk with a kitten calendar above it. You stepped into the room dodging discarded books and clothes, walking quietly to the bed in the dark; your hand, seemingly on its own accord, reaching out to the calico cat beanie baby in front of you. The fur obviously worn through use; stuffing squeezed away from its neck; its head lying limply to the side. It didn’t even feel soft. But some little girl had obviously loved it. You brought the cat up a few inches from your face, looking at its beady eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” That was the one thing you hated about your job, you only ever showed up after the bad thing had happened. 

You never got to stop it from happening. 

You dropped the cat back to the bed, it landed quietly. You turned back toward the hallway, not looking back into any of the rooms as you headed down the stairs. There were no answers here. You didn’t even hesitate at the bottom of the stairs, walking straight out of the building and into the sunlight—away from the abandoned beds and too tight walls. You didn’t need to try and find Maka and Soul; Maka had soul perception, she would know where you were. 

“It’s awful what happened there.” You heard a man’s voice call to you the moment you stepped out of the doorway. 

“Excuse me?” You replied, looking across the street at a seemingly young man with grocery bags in his hands. 

“The orphanage, I grew up there. I own the hotel in town now. There was actually a woman who’d come into town just the night before getting ready to adopt.”

Odd. 

“Just the night before? Is she still here?” 

“No, she was so upset she left just after the town realized what happened.”

“Did she say her name?”

“Tyto, that’s what she called herself. Hard to forget a name like that.”

Tyto, that sounded familiar. 

“Thank you.” You said quickly, realization falling upon you. You looked away and down at your phone, pulling up the photo you had taken of the hospital’s visitor log at the end of your last mission. 

And there it was, the same name scrawled in red ink on a white page, Tyto. It wasn’t a kishin, at least not on its own; this was a witch. A witch with spatial magic—that’s why no leads were left behind. 

“Anytime.” The man concluded, starting on his way again.

“Wait, sir.” You jogged across the street toward him. “The woman, did she leave any number or forwarding information?”

“No, don’t think so.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me about her? What did she drive; what was she wearing?”

“I can’t say I saw her car. I did tell her there was a sister orphanage just a few towns over in Maria. In case she decided to adopt again later of course.” 

“Maria, which way is that?”

“Oh, it’s just about two hours down Highway 42 South.”

“Thank you.” You shouted again over your shoulder as you turned back toward the orphanage, making eye contact with Soul as he followed Maka out of the dark doorway.

“Soul, Maka, we have to go.”

It hadn’t taken you long to fill them in on what you discovered; and it had taken even less time for you all three to grab your things and be well on your way down Highway 42. Maka was asleep in the backseat already, for whatever reason car rides put her to sleep faster than cold medicine; so, she never protested Soul taking shotgun, not that Soul would fit into the back of your black 79’ Camaro anyway. You had the same relationship with this car as Soul did with his Harley. 

You were driving, trying your best not to go so fast as to attract unwanted attention from any stray police cars. Your grip a little too tight on the steering wheel, the rubbery leather texture sticking to your palm. Your right hand fidgeting against the smooth plastic head of the gearshift. 

The warm weight of Soul’s hand fell across your fingertips, keeping them from continuing to tap against the gearshift audibly. “(Y/N), you have to stop. You’re making me nervous.”

“Sorry.” You replied sheepishly, eyes still focused on the road. Soul didn’t move his hand. 

“What’s bothering you?”

“Am I that obvious.”

“Only to me.” Soul chuckled. “And anyone else who’s been listening to your fingernails tap for half an hour.”

“Sorry.” You said again, avoiding his first question. 

“You know most people wouldn’t have even thought to take a picture of the visitor log.” Soul said, gently prodding at what you both knew was bothering you—if you had just investigated Tyto earlier, maybe you could have saved all the kids at that orphanage.

You still didn’t look away from the road and Soul’s fingers slipped through yours silently. 

“I hate showing up after the fact.” You muttered.

“I know.” Soul’s hand squeezed yours lightly.

“All the doors upstairs had name tags. There was a girl there named Maddie.”

Soul didn’t say anything, so you continued. “And Sam, and Tyler. Then there was Rebecca and Beth, they shared a room. And Christian was in the middle of painting a volcano. Sarah was having a tea party.”

Your left hand tensed around the steering wheel as a single tear slid down your cheek against your will, causing you to blink rapidly for a moment. “How are you both always so calm.”

“We’re not, we’re just better at hiding it.” Soul replied, the leather seat beneath him voicing protest as he leaned over to wipe the tear from your face; his thumb sliding gently beneath your eye for a brief moment before he pulled away again. “There’s nothing wrong with empathy.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t even look away from the road as you felt his eyes remain on you. 

“That’s why you never voluntarily took on higher level missions isn’t it; all the top priority kishins were top priority because of how many people they killed.” Soul continued. 

“Empathies a bitch.” You tried to joke, but neither of you laughed. 

“If I wasn’t a weapon, if I was a meister. Would you have let me be your partner?” Soul asked quietly. 

This time you did look away from the road, turning to face Soul, wanting to know what he was thinking. Soul’s red eyes locked on to yours without hesitation. You had no idea what he was thinking; his hand still on top of yours. 

So, you evaded. “I’m sure that would have made my mother happy.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you.”

“Can someone be proud six feet underground.” You replied bitterly, looking back toward the road. 

“Sorry, that wasn’t fair.” You added after a moment. 

“You don’t have to apologize for saying what you’re thinking. I don’t mind. I’ve always appreciated how honest you are with your emotions.”

“I’m not that honest; I’m just cynical and lack a filter.” I’ve never even told you I love you, you tacked on in your head. 

“Well then miss cynical, would you let me be your meister.”

“You’re a weapon.”

“But if I wasn’t.”

Yes. “No.” You said anyway, hand momentarily leaving the wheel to push your hair behind your ear subconsciously. 

“You’re lying.” Soul replied. “You always tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re lying.”

“Guess I’m not that honest, if I lie enough for you to know my tells.” You felt a smile pull across your lips; you should’ve known he’d know your tells. 

“How long have I known you now?”

“Too long clearly.” You joked. 

“Hey, if you hadn’t snuck into my grandmothers garden to swim in the fountain like a “common vagrant” as she put it, you wouldn’t be stuck with me today.” You didn’t have to see Soul’s face to know he was smiling. He’d succeeded in distracting you. He always did. He let his hand fall from yours and you missed its weight immediately. 

It didn’t mean anything; he was just comforting you, you thought. 

“She called me a vagrant!” You said in mock horror, only causing Soul to laugh loudly.

“You know my grandmother was almost convinced you turned me into a weapon like it was some sort of disease.”

“Great so now I’m a diseased vagrant. You make me sound like a plague rat.”

“Oh, like your family thought any better of the shark toothed boy with white hair.” Soul added.

“They didn’t; they thought it was all fake. Thought you’d gotten your teeth filed and hair dyed.”

“What dentist would agree to file someone’s teeth down?”

“I’m sure a lot for the right price rich boy. My dad became oddly concerned that I was going to show up with a tattoo randomly after we started hanging out.”

“We weren’t even ten!”

“Let me guess.” You interrupted. “And what tattoo artist would agree to tattoo a child?”

“Any for the right price rich girl.” Soul mimicked you, leaving you both laughing, waking Maka up from the backseat.

“What’s so funny?” She mumbled, drool trailing from her cheek to the window—only causing you both to laugh louder.

It was night by the time you pulled your car into the parking lot of the orphanage in Maria, having had to stop and ask a random woman for directions when you arrived. Unlike the last orphanage, this one was considerably larger, not attached to any other buildings and had elaborate stone steps leading to the front door. 

A woman with long brown hair that curled lightly down her back, which was concealed under a white cloak, was walking up the stairs.

“That’s her. That’s the witch.” Maka said from the backseat as the car came to a halt.

“We’re not too late.” You said, relief clear in your voice. You didn’t hesitate launching yourself from the car, door wide open behind you. 

“Tyto.” You yelled and the woman turned to look at you, golden eyes wide with annoyance, freckles splattered across her face, lips thin, nose hooked, sharp.

“More of Lord Death’s finest I presume. I don’t have time to deal with you three right now.” She snapped her fingers.

Your vision went blank as the floor felt like it was being ripped out from beneath you; feet suddenly landing loudly on wooden floors, pain shooting through your legs as you stumbled over. You caught yourself on your hands, palms falling on stray pieces of straw. You looked around quickly, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. 

You were on the inside of what looked like a mostly empty barn, a few open holes for windows on your left and right, rafter beams above you. “Soul? Maka?” You said standing.

There was no one near you. Shit. You really hated spatial magic. 

You stepped forward, planks creaking beneath your feet like the orphanage stairs as you walked toward the cracked sliding door on the far end of the barn, squeezing through. Wherever you were, it was nighttime here as well. The moon providing enough light outside of the barn for you to at least see as you stepped onto the gravel path in front of you, knees protesting. 

You took another step forward onto crunching gravel, right when you heard the shifting of weight behind you causing you to look up—on top of the barn. 

What looked like a human sized barn owl sat with its back to you on the roof of the barn; the sound had been the shifting of weight between its feathered feet. Its head turned slowly without the rest of its body, revealing a pale human face with stark blue eyes like something you would see in a morgue. 

You stumbled backward only for a moment before regaining yourself. This must be the wannabe kishin. 

The human face snapped back to its previous direction, brown, black speckled wings drifting open silently before the creature jumped into the air, circling above you silently like a ghost. 

“Alright birdie, let’s play.” You watched your fingers shift to blue metal effortlessly as you kicked your shoes off, toes turning to talons shortly after. The gravel a painful texture beneath your now bare feet.

The human-owl hybrid continued to circle silently, like it was just pinpointing your location, never making a move to attack as you strung bowstring between your fingers like yarn tricks. The owl blocking out the glint of starlight from above, the bowstring became next to invisible until the dark blue glow of your soul wavelength built along the string. It used to be hard, next to impossible to focus the beat of your soul into one location. Now it felt like running your hands through bath water, testing the temperature. 

A flash of light followed the release of your soul wavelength, which connected with the belly of the kishin in the next moment, causing an inhuman screech to emit from its very human lips.

It wavered for only a second in the air before it tucked its wings, pummeling straight for you. “Shit.” You cursed, dodging to the side a second too late. 

The creature’s talons connected with your shoulder, tearing pain across the skin and pushing you to the ground. But you dodged just enough for it not to pin you. The creature flapped its wings again, readjusting its position to pin you down, it leapt toward you on the ground. 

This time it succeeded, one foot beside your head, the other pressing into your chest as its wings rested back against its side. Its face leaned down toward you, eyes unblinking. 

“(Y/N).” You heard Soul shout from somewhere behind the owl just before his scythe form connected with the side of the owl, startling it from your body and into the air again.

“Resonant with us.” Maka said her back to you, Soul in her hands, raised between you and the owl. 

You let your soul reach out from you like a river, pouring toward Maka, her soul light like air mixed with Soul’s more impish soul—together, their souls fluttered around like a pixie playing tricks. Your soul connected with theirs, river turning to a waterfall around you as you aimed your soul wavelength through your bowstring intertwined fingers once more; the bolt this time tearing through the bird’s wing, bringing it involuntarily to the ground. 

It stumbled only for a moment; but it was a moment too much as Maka turned the creature into a cloud of feathers in the next moment, only a corrupted soul remained. 

You had to admit, you all made a good team. 

“I spent a very long time collecting souls for that little kishin you just killed.” A voice rained down like hail from the top of the barn. 

Tyto stepped from the wood to the ground without making a sound, even as her feet landed on gravel. 

“Is that what the other barn full of kids is for.” Maka spoke, voice just as cold.

“Touchy, aren’t you.” Tyto spoke again, throwing her white cloak back over her shoulder as she drew two short sai out from her clothes; the three pronged blades like an extension of her arm as she waltzed forward. 

“They’re alive?” You spoke quickly to Maka; she nodded in confirmation. A smile broke across your face. “So, we just have to take this witch’s soul then.”

This was your one chance to stop the bad thing from happening—right here. 

“You make it sound easy.” Tyto turned to you. “Why don’t you try me then?”

“(Y/N) be careful.” Soul spoke just a moment after you launched yourself forward—taloned toes digging into gravel with ease. You were faster than they were—always at the head of the attack. 

Tyto settled back into a crouch, sai held out like wings as she waited for you to make a move. When you came within range, you swiped your hand forward like a cornered cougar trying to break her stance as she dodged. But it wasn’t that easy. She rolled backward, resuming her stance with ease immediately on the offensive. Sai striking toward you faster than a snake, causing you to block last minute with your wrist. 

“Not bad.” You purred. 

She cut so smooth you almost didn’t feel it, until blood trickled down your forearms like cool water. You jumped back, circling her. She circled you as well. You noticed Maka behind her, advancing forward. As Maka attacked, Tyto only laughed as though she had eyes on the back of her head; her arm struck backward at an inhuman angle like a broken doll. Sai stopping Soul’s scythe blade with ease. 

“You’ll have to do better than that.” Tyto said sweetly, in the way a snake’s venom is sweet. 

The rest of Tyto’s body consorted with her arm, twisting piece by piece into the right direction without a single crack of bone. She brought her second sai upward, dragging metal across Maka’s thigh. Maka screamed, leg giving way beneath her. She was forced to use Soul to prop herself upward, leaving her open for a second attack. 

Maka needed to regain her balance. 

You jumped forward instead, latching onto Tyto’s back like a pouncing mountain lion, pulling her onto the ground—away from Maka. 

And then she was gone into thin air, appearing above you in the next moment, a sai at your throat. “Try again.” She whispered. 

“Did I ever tell you how much I hate spatial magic?” You asked, still pinned beneath her as her eyes narrowed above you darkly, you quickly wound a bowstring between your thumb and index finger firing a bolt of your soul wavelength up into her. She didn’t even flinch. 

“That tickled.” She laughed, jumping backward suddenly as Maka swung the scythe toward her—the movement driving air across your body like wind. 

“Soul, we need to use the black blood.” She shouldn’t have been able to take a team resonance bolt like it was nothing. You had taken her too lightly, had been too concerned with the children, hadn’t thought it through. 

“Are you sure.” Soul responded.

“Yes.”

Maka nodded and in the next moment you felt the black blood seep toward you through the watery bond of your souls like tar—too heavy, too thick.

It was like an oil spill. 

A wide smile broke across Maka’s face in the next moment as she lurched toward Tyto like a drunk man, slinging the scythe much faster this time—Tyto’s body went flying backward, tumbling into the ground. 

Tyto wasn’t prepared for the sudden change. 

The madness seeped into you in the next moment, a sinister laugh cackling from your lips as bolts of your soul wavelength went flying without restraint toward Tyto. You always felt so at ease, a disturbing high as you watched yourself move from outside your body. 

You moved unnaturally like Maka, bodies too limber as the red devil smiled inside you both. Worry threaded itself into Tyto’s face as her upper hand vanished, even as she seemingly teleported she couldn’t regain her cool demeanor. 

She teleported away from Maka only to end up with your hand around her throat in the next moment, your blood now black on your arms. She dropped one of her sai, to try and peel your fingers from her throat once she realized the blade no longer had any effect on you. 

The black blood polluted your soul, sinking you deeper into the madness. You hand tightened, blue claws sinking into her skin as Maka cleaved Tyto’s body in two. But the blood held onto you like quicksand dragging you down into its dark depths. 

“We stayed in the madness too long.” Maka’s bright form said from beside you. 

You were both floating in a seemingly endless nothingness, a glasslike surface above you. “Soul will pull you out. He always does.”

True to your words, Soul’s face appeared above the glass in the next moment, his hand reaching, struggling to break the glassy surface. 

You tried to swim upward with Maka; but an inky tentacle slithered its way around your ankle, wrapping itself quickly around your leg like a growing vine. “Maka you need to go, now.”

“I can’t reach him from here.” Maka replied, unaware of the madness pulling you deeper. 

Soul’s voice was muffled above the glass, growing more frantic. You looked from him to Maka, the inky tentacles not yet wrapping around her legs, but coming closer.  
You swam through the darkness toward her, tentacles of madness pulling you down as you tried to move. You grabbed onto her, trying to push her upward toward Soul, who’s hand finally broke through the surface. Soul leaned into the darkness, hand grasping at Maka’s.

“(Y/N) hold on to Maka. I’ll pull you both out.” Soul yelled, voice more panicked than you’d ever heard it. He could see them too, the tendrils of tar melting against your skin like a mouse trap. Suddenly you understood how the birds of the ocean must feel, with all that oil in their feathers—unable to fly away. 

You couldn’t move anywhere but down. 

You shook your head no, not willing to bring them both further down with you. Knowing Soul couldn’t pull you both out, not when you were sinking so quickly. 

The tentacles pulled harder, another stretching upward to wrap around your arm; even as Soul pulled you both upward. He was too slow. You let go of Maka and the tendrils writhed angry, yanking you down into their depths as retribution. 

“(Y/N)!” Soul and Maka both yelled, but it was Soul’s voice that rang in your ears. 

You were in your bedroom, back at your parent’s home. A room you hadn’t been in in years. A little red devil leaning back on the surplus of pillows on your bed.

“I guess you finally won one.” You said.

He smiled, gesturing you to join him.

And you did. 

Soul jolted out of his weapon form. Maka coughing on the ground behind him. He didn’t get you out. “(Y/N)?” 

He watched in dismay as you leaned backward, back cracking at the movement as a too-wide smile pulled tight across your face. It wasn’t the smile he’d come to love; it wasn’t the small, quiet smile that pulled lightly against your eyes, teeth barely peeking through. Soul’s stomach dropped. He had to bring you back. 

“Soul.” Maka said firmly from behind him, hand grasping his wrist tightly. “That’s not (Y/N) right now.”

“We can’t just leave her like that.” Soul’s voice broke. 

“If she’s too deep in the madness…” Maka trailed off, not wanting to tell Soul what they were going to have to do. 

“She’s not like Justin. We can get her back. I can get her back Maka.” Soul half yelled, stepping toward you as your attention fell on him. “(Y/N)?”

“Soul.” Maka said in warning.

“Hey meister.” A voice that was not yours dripped from your mouth. “Are you going to try and wield me now?”

Bow talons emerged from across your chest, bowstrings crisscrossing in every direction, almost coating you entirely in spider webbing—bolts of your soul wavelength pouring outward toward Soul as his forearms both shifted to their scythe form, crossing in front of him like a shield reflecting the bolts away, some still struck his legs. Burning pain causing him to bite his lip. 

“I’m not going to fight you (Y/N).” 

“Your funeral.” You replied.

Your bedroom door opened slowly, a woman walking into the room.

“Mom?” You said, voice in disbelief. “Mom is that you?”

“Of course, who else would be coming to check on you in the middle of the night.” She smiled, holding her arms wide.

The red devil was no longer on your bed. 

You jumped into your mom’s arms in tears—arms ensnaring her as quickly as you forgot this wasn’t real. As quickly as this room became your reality. 

“What’s the matter (Y/N)?” She asked lightly. 

And you couldn’t remember, had no idea why you were upset. “I-, I don’t know.” You said face tucked into her chest, unaware of the too wide smile that ripped her face apart. 

Soul stumbled backward into Maka, your crouched body walking toward him slowly. 

“Soul this isn’t working. If you can’t fight her I will.” Maka spoke up again. “She’s my friend too, you know.”

“No.” Soul said firmly. He was never going to hurt you. It was his fault. He was weak. He was a coward. 

He’d never even told you how he felt. 

And he was tired of it. Tired of you not knowing. 

“Soul. Listen to me. At this rate she’s going to kill you and she wouldn’t want that.” 

The sound of metal hitting metal tore around them both as Soul continued to parry your blows, metal nails screeching against his bladed arms as he tried his best to keep you from hurting him; but he wasn’t perfect. Shallow cuts littered his body beneath torn clothes. 

“Listen. You change into your scythe form and I’ll fight her.”

“No.”

“Soul. Listen. I know you’re in love with her. Just let me help you.” Maka all but yelled, silencing Soul’s protest for a moment. She continued. “I’ll just counter her attacks; I won’t kill her. And while you’re in weapon form try and resonant with her soul; I’ll help you.”

“Promise me you won’t hurt her. It’s my fault she fell into the madness.”

Your attack found purchase against his throat, nail carving its path just above his collarbone. Soul didn’t budge. 

“Soul she fell into the madness to save us. You have to realize why.”

Soul didn’t realize why, his mind too caught up in pulling you back out. “Just promise me Maka.”

“Okay, I promise.” Maka responded roughly. “Now change.”

Soul complied, shifting to a scythe in her hand. 

“Play your piano for me and I’ll get you to her.”

“Thank you.” Soul said just before his fingers fell on the white keys of the piano in the tiled room before him. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep (Y/N)?” Your mom asked, leading you to the bed, tucking you in as she sat on the side. The bed shifting beneath her weight without protest. 

“I’d rather talk to you.” You replied, pulling the covers up around you like a child waiting for a bedtime story. 

The soft sound of a piano drifted into the room, something you’d never heard, and yet…

“What did you want to talk about?” Your mom asked as if she couldn’t hear the song playing. 

“Do you hear that?”

“What?”

“The piano?”

“There is no piano playing sweetie, maybe you should go to bed.”

The sound grew, growing deeper, more persistent. There was a knock at your bedroom door. “Mom, who is that?”

“(Y/N), go to sleep. I don’t hear anything.”

“No, mom, someone knocked.” You responded, determined to open the door. You slid out of bed around her, as she watched you curiously. 

You opened the door. 

A boy stood in front of you with spikey white hair and the teeth to match. His attire too formal, a pin striped suit against your pajama t-shirt.

“Can I come in?” He asked. 

“Oh, that’s the neighbor’s boy.” Your mom stood from the bed. “Isn’t it a little late to be visiting?”

“(Y/N).” The boy said again, his hand reaching toward you. 

“Go home.” Your mom said coldly from beside you, pulling you behind her. 

“(Y/N). This isn’t real; your mom died when you were 12. I was there.” The boy said kindly, sadness seeping into his voice—like he didn’t want to tell you. Would rather you not remember.

“My mom’s right here?” You said confused, wrapping your arms back around her to confirm your words. “Who are you?”

“I’m Soul; I’m your best friend.”

“Soul, what a preposterous name.” Your mom laughed. “Now go home before I call your parents. It’s well past midnight.”

Soul acted as though he didn’t even hear your mom talk. “Please (Y/N). Let me in.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You do (Y/N), and I know you. I know that your favorite color is (your favorite color); I know that you’ve rewatched (your favorite show) more times than I could even count; I know you’ll put aside whatever you’re doing to listen to a friend; I know you’ll sooner punch a man twice your size in the face, rather than let them make a complete stranger uncomfortable; I know that your real smile isn’t the boisterous one you wear so often, but the small one—the one you can barely see; and I know you love your mom more than anything—that you cling to your Camaro so tightly because it’s all you have left of her, because (Y/N) this isn’t real. That woman there is just madness disguised as your mother.” Soul’s eyes searched yours desperately, his mouth mildly agape and out of breath. 

“I’m such a hypocrite.” Soul cursed under his breath, hand sliding through his hair roughly. “I always tell you how much I appreciate your honesty, but I’ve never been honest with you.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, not sure why you cared, unable to define the pull you felt toward the man in front of you. 

“I stopped letting Maka cut my hair the day you said you preferred men with long hair. The day you commented on that other student’s bun—laughing with Maka about how you’d love to braid his hair back for him; I was jealous.”

“Why were you jealous?”

“Because I’m in love with you (Y/N).” Soul held his hand toward you once more, slender fingers begging to touch you. 

“Go home.” Your mom said violently, moving to close the door.

“Mom?” You stepped away from her, startled by the change in her tone.

“That’s not your mom (Y/N).” How does he know my name? You thought. 

His palm connected with the door, keeping it from closing. “(Y/N), let me in.” Desperation seeped into his voice, and for some reason it bothered you. 

Everything he’d told you, it—it had sparked your memories, even if only for a moment your reality shifted.

“Soul?” You formed his name with your lips, an inkling of memory dripping into your brain. A memory of him. “Soul.” You said again startled. “You can come in.”

You reached through the doorway, grabbing his hand, pulling him toward you—relief washing the worried wrinkled from his forehead. 

Your mom grabbed your other hand, pleasant expression wiped from her face. “You can’t have us both. Choose.”

“You already have us both (Y/N).” Soul intertwined his fingers with yours. “Come with me.”

“(Y/N)?” Your mom’s voice suddenly turned quiet and hurt. “(Y/N) you can’t go out at this hour; what if something happens to you. Stay with me.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Soul pulled you against him with his grip on your hand. He let go, only to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you the rest of the way against his chest. “(Y/N) I’m in love with you, and I need you to trust me or I can’t take you back with me.” Soul said against your hair. 

You weren’t sure why, but something in you screamed to trust him. So, you nodded your head. “Take me with you.”

Soul stepped backward out of the room; the door slamming shut behind you both. 

One clawed hand was gripped too tight around the blade of Soul’s scythe; the blade cutting into your palm as consequence, your own now red blood trickling free. Maka’s eyes were wide beneath you, where you had her pinned to the ground. 

“Maka?” You said startled. Realizing what happened, you jumped off her in the next moment. “Maka I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“It’s okay; I’m fine—” Maka was interrupted by Soul’s reappearance in front of her. 

He threw his arms around you in the next moment, crushing you against the muscles in his chest like you would disappear if he let go of you. 

“Soul.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, anchoring yourself, letting the smell of him wash the oil of madness from your body. “My mom.”

“I know.” Soul’s arms tightened around you, his nose pressing into your hair. 

“I’m going to go check on those kids.” Maka excused herself. 

A silent sob shook your chest, the memory of your mom in that room—it had been nice, to pretend for a while. You pushed your face further into Soul’s shoulder, ignoring the tears escaping as you tried to take a deep breath. 

“When I saw her in the room with you… I had no idea if I was going to be able to get you to leave. I hated asking you to.” Soul continued. 

“I know it wasn’t her, not really—” Your uneven breathing broke your sentence apart. “But—”

“I know. You don’t have to explain.” Soul’s voice was quiet. 

He continued to hold you as you pieced yourself back together slowly. “Thank you for coming back for me.”

“I would never leave you behind.” Soul loosened his grip, stepping back so he could look at you. “I just hate that you had to leave your mom.”

You shook your head in disagreement. “That wasn’t real.” You reached your hand forward to touch his arm. “This is real. Besides, my real mom loved you. She never would have wanted me to stay there.”

“What about you?” Soul asked.

“What about me?” You replied confused. 

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I do?” 

“(Y/N) did you forget?” Soul stepped back forward, hands coming to a rest on your hips. “Or did you not hear me when I said I was in love with you.”

“In love.” You repeated like you needed confirmation, like you didn’t quite understand what he was saying.

“I’m in love with you (Y/N). I’ve been in love with you since the day you told my grandmother where she could shove her opinions of my music.”

“Soul that was years ago.” You spoke, the truth of what he was telling you not sinking in. Soul loved you, it wasn’t one sided. It wasn’t just you.

“I know.” Soul’s eyes searched your face, impatiently trying to preconceive your response.

“Your hair is really this long because you had a crush on me?”

“Have.” Soul corrected. 

“So, this whole time, you never wanted to just be friends?” You paused, watching him shake his head. “This whole time you’ve been in love with me too. Soul, I’ve been in love with you. I am in love with you.”

“Why didn’t you lead with that?” Was all Soul said before he leaned forward to kiss you. 

You’d dreamed of kissing Soul for a long time, but your imagination never could have done this justice. The way his mouth aligned with yours perfectly, the soft texture of his lips parting yours in moments. 

You slid your tongue into his mouth, wanting more of him as his grip tightened against your waist. You’d wanted this for so long, wanted him. Your hands traveled down his chest catching on the tears in his shirt. You pulled back.

“Soul? Did I do this?” You said, looking at the mirage of cuts across his body that you were somehow just noticing. “Are you okay?”

“I’m more than okay.” Soul leaned forward to kiss your cheek, your nose, your forehead. 

“But Soul.” You said fingers resting on a cut down his arm, it wasn’t deep; but still, it bothered you. 

“Really, I’m okay (Y/N). It’s all just scratches.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to believe him, fingers tracing every last cut on his arms, then his chest; the single scratch on his neck was the worst, but even it was no longer bleeding. You wrapped your hands around his neck to pull him back toward you, lips landing lightly across the red line above his collarbone. “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologizing.” Soul argued, hands shifting your body back against his so he could kiss you again, slower this time—more thorough, teeth dragging down your lower lip. Next he kissed your jawline, the tip of your ear before he whispered into it. “But if you’re really that concerned, I’ll let you make it up to me.”

“And how do you suppose I could do that.” You replied in a similar low tone. 

“I can think of a few ways.” Soul continued, hips pressing gently into yours. Soul kissed your forehead again. “But I think we need to get Maddie, and her friends home first.”

“Later then.” You agreed, taking Soul’s hand and walking toward the distant sound of Maka’s voice.

“Later then.” Soul echoed, grip tightening in yours like he was never going to let you go. 

And maybe he never would. 

“For the record. It’s always been your hair that I’ve really wanted to braid.” You said, pressing your forehead into Soul’s shoulder—feeling him lean into you. 

Even if you didn’t, Soul knew he was never going to let go.


End file.
